Ji Mianmian was wearing Murong Mian's jacket, which had fallen to the ground.
She felt that the doctor's voice seemed to be very far away. She saw his mouth move, but she couldn't hear him speak.
"It's already a miracle that he's been able to hold on until now. In addition, yesterday, he forced us to increase the dosage and insisted on announcing his will. In fact, his body couldn't take the drug anymore. Now ... We can't do anything about it. My condolences!"
The doctor bowed to them.
Murong Zhihong's vital signs had completely disappeared. He had endured so many times, but he had not made it through this time.
Ji Mianmian turned to look at Murong Mian. His expression was calm and collected, as if this was already a predetermined outcome. There was nothing strange about it, and there was no need to be sad.
Murong Zhihong's life and death did not matter to them.
